


Parents Beware

by leonidaslion



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Gen Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-16
Updated: 2011-01-16
Packaged: 2017-10-14 19:51:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/152847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leonidaslion/pseuds/leonidaslion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam and Dean are hunting a waterhorse in a camping ground, and Dean's picked up a few tag-a-longs ...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Parents Beware

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mtee](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=mtee).



Dean was whistling to himself while he poked at the fire, apparently oblivious to the small figures lurking just beyond its light. As far as Sam knew, his brother really was unaware of his audience: he certainly hadn’t seemed to notice the troupe following him around during the day—boys on vacation with their families and bored with the woods. Boys who had seen Dean with his sharp grin and faded leather jacket and cocky swagger and instantly succumbed to the kind of hero worship that only the very young are subject to.

Sam had watched the boys trail after Dean as he strolled along the lake, looking for signs of the waterhorse they’d come here to hunt. He’d seen his brother skip a rock out across the water: saw the boys try to emulate the feat. He’d seen them turn their collars up and practice strutting around in Dean’s footsteps.

At least Dean hadn’t done anything too embarrassing or ill mannered today.

“So I’m thinking that the north shore is our best bet,” Sam said, keeping his voice pitched low.

Dean shrugged. “Yeah, not a lot of campers over that way. Sounds good.” His grin as he raised his eyes to Sam was sudden and a little alarming. “But we can’t really do anything about that until tomorrow, right?”

“Um …”

Dean reached into the bag sitting next to him and fished out a box of graham crackers and an oversized package of Hershey’s chocolate. He tossed them across the fire at Sam and went back in again, this time holding up a couple of large bags of marshmallows.

Tossing one of the bags up and then catching it again, Dean called over his shoulder, “Who wants S’mores?” From the mischievous gleam in his eye, he’d known about the watchers the whole time.

Sam expected the shadows to fall back, alarmed at their discovery, but he’d underestimated his brother’s influence. Their small fire was suddenly swarming with figures, all of them swaggering and introducing themselves to Dean, and not one of them over the age of ten. Which was why he was relieved, twenty minutes later, that he’d managed to work his way around the fire to sit closer to his brother. It meant he could kick Dean surreptitiously in the shin when his storytelling got a little too graphic.

“So I took the machete—that’s like a really big knife—and I sliced off her—ow! Jeez, Sammy, gimme a break here. I’m gonna need that ankle to walk, dude.”

Eight pairs of eyes glared at him with the same mixture of scorn and annoyance—they hadn’t been following Dean around for more than a day and they already had that look down—and Sam tossed his hands up in surrender. Kids wanted nightmares so much, they could have them.

“I’m gonna turn in,” he announced, getting up. Then, meaningfully, he added, “You should too. We’ve got a big day tomorrow. Fishing.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Dean waved at Sam carelessly, and then went back to his story, describing the splurt of vampiric blood in great detail. His audience made appreciative noises as they crammed the remnants of their S’mores into chocolate-stained mouths.

Sam rolled his eyes as he headed over to his sleeping bag. His brother ought to come with a warning label stamped on his forehead. _Parents Beware: Inadvisable Role Model._

Children found Dean just as irresistible as women did. They were drawn to him like moths to a shiny bug zapper, in part from the aura of suave danger Dean that made sure he exuded. Mostly, though, Sam suspected that they were so attracted to Dean because he treated them the same way he treated everyone else: didn’t water things down or baby them. Kids appreciated that.

Sam scrunched down into the sleeping bag and lay on his side, watching as Dean mimed shooting something, sighting down his extended arm. One of the smaller kids—a freckled redhead—was perched on Dean’s lap, pulling on Dean’s fingers as though shooting a gun while Dean made the accompanying noises. A second later, the kid let out a bray of startled laughter as Dean’s free hand snuck in to tickle his stomach.

Sam grinned as the rest of the boys came to the redhead’s rescue, swarming over Dean and pulling him back off the log he was sitting on. The action started an impromptu game of tag, and when Sam shut his eyes a few minutes later, his brother was stomping around after his admirers in full Frankenstein mode. He dropped off to sleep with a vague feeling of sorrow and regret.

Dean would have made a great father.


End file.
